18
Sasha
I am exhausted. My apartment only has one bedroom so I let Liam crash in my bed while I took the couch. He’d been through enough the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t fair on him to spend the night folded in half on a cheap couch.
Unfortunately, since my apartment is so small, I had to get a small couch. I’m not a big woman. Some people would call me pocket sized and by some people, I mean Conor, but I still struggle to fit on the cheap, uncomfortable couch.
After tossing and turning and waking up every hour with a spring digging into my ass, every muscle in my body aches. I would sell my soul for a hot bath right now. Too bad I don’t have one. That’s the one thing I really miss about Max’s place. The bathtub was amazing.
Liam and I stayed up most of the night. I had very stern words with him, which kept his attention for about ten minutes.
To be fair, it’s longer than I thought he’d listen for.
I do think he understands why I was so worried about him, thankfully.
And I do have to thank Conor for that. Liam told me what he said to him when I walked off.
I’m still angry, but not at Liam anymore. I’m angry at our parents. Liam didn’t tell them he was leaving and it’s been over thirty-six hours since he left home. I haven’t received one call or text from either of them and worse, neither has Liam.
I had the best parents growing up. They would call me if I wasn’t home even five minutes after curfew.
The parents Liam has, they’re not the same as the ones I had.
I know that sounds strange because they’re the same people, but they are different parents.
Somewhere along the way, they stopped seeing the little boy who needed them and started seeing him as a problem they didn’t know how to fix.
I just didn’t realize how bad they’d failed him until now.
Liam is still asleep, curled up beneath my duvet, finally getting the sleep he desperately needs. Good. Because I’m about to wake someone else up. I bring up my dad’s contact and dial his number. It rings and rings before going to voicemail. Typical.
Okay, I’ll try my mom. The dial tone rings and rings and finally, she answers. “Hello my sweet girl.” I close my eyes, inhaling a deep breath. She’s speaking to me like I’m a child. Usually, it makes me smile. Today it makes me clench my teeth.
“Mom.” My tone is clipped but she doesn’t seem to notice as she asks how I am. “Do you have anything you have to tell me?” I ask, instead of answering her question.
“Emm, no. I don’t think so.”
“Well I have something to tell you.”
“Are you pregnant?" She asks, excitement in her voice. Pregnant? Is she serious?
Again, I don’t answer her question, instead giving her one. “Do you know where Liam is?”
“I’m sure he’s out with his friends. You know what he’s like.” The words hit like a punch straight to the chest. Friends. If only she knew.
“Has he been out with these friends for almost two days now?”
“Maybe. He stays over at his friend's house a lot.” No he doesn’t because he doesn’t have any friends.
He told me this last night. He’s getting a hard time from people at school for being different.
He has no one to hang out with at home and the fact that his own mother can’t see that is just so fucking sad.
“Liam got a bus to Florida yesterday, mom. On his own.”
“What are you talking about, Sasha?”
“Exactly what I just said.” It’s taking so much effort to keep my voice down when all I want to do is scream down the phone at her. “Liam got on a bus and came to Florida by himself because he’s so miserable at home.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. You’re just overreacting, Sasha.” Is she fucking kidding me right now? I'm overreacting?
There’s a soft knock on my front door before Conor walks in, carrying a tray of hot coffees from Buttons and Books. His smile instantly drops when he sees how angry I am, his eyes flicking between me and the phone in my hand.
“No, mom.” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “You’re underreacting. He’s just a kid.”
“Sasha-”
“He’s struggling.”
“We know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“We’re trying our best-”
“You’re best?” A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, but there’s no humor there. “Your best is letting your fourteen-year-old son disappear for nearly two days without even checking where he is?”
“We didn’t think-”
“Exactly.” We’re both silent for a few beats. “You didn’t think.”
“You know we don’t know how to help. We don’t understand his illness and -”
“It’s not a fucking illness, mom.” My voice cracks as I try to keep the tears at bay. “It’s a neurological condition. He needs help and support and you’re not giving it to him. You’re his mom, not me, so start fucking acting like it.”
I hang up before she can answer. My hands tremble as I stare at my phone. I want to throw it. I want to smash something. Everything catches up to me at once. I am so God damn exhausted. I am so fucking angry. I am devastated for my little brother who I should have protected better.
Conor sits next to me on the couch, pulling me into his arms. His scent wraps around me like a warm blanket. It’s comforting, easing some of the tension built up inside me. I don't know if it's his cologne, shampoo or just him. All I know is that it's like a drug to me and one hit is never enough.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Conor.” I mumble into his shirt. “I didn't mean to get so mad but… ugh! I had the best parents in the world growing up. Why can’t they be like that for him? He needs it a lot more than I ever did.”
“I don’t know, Angel.”
“I get that he was a tough kid to look after, but he’s grown so much. Sure, he can still be a pain in the ass but they haven't even tried with him.” Conor doesn’t respond, but he doesn't need to. I'm just glad that he’s here. “I’m sorry again. I never wanted you to see me like that.”
“It’s okay. I thought it was kinda hot.” I snort. Literally snort, and it makes Conor laugh against me. The deep rumble of his chest vibrating through my body. “There she is.”
“How do you do that?” I ask him when our laughter dies down.
“Do what?”
“Make me forget all my problems by saying one sentence.”
“It’s one of my many talents.” I wrap my arms around him again in a silent thanks before pulling away.
“We’re gonna go over to Liv and Josh’s place. Liam said he wants to meet Isabella but I think he just wants to see Olivia.”
“Poor guy’s gonna get his heart crushed.” Conor says with a chuckle. “Mind if I come?”
“Of course you can. Liam’s still sleeping so we’ll go when he’s up.”
Noticing the extra pillow and blankets that are folded at the end of the couch, Conor asks, “Did you sleep out here?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t let him sleep out here. That’s hardly fair.”
“It’s a good job your pint sized. I would have to cut myself in half to fit on here comfortably.”
I roll my eyes as Conor wiggles his ass on the couch. “You must be sore. There’s a spring digging into my ass.”
“It’s only a few days. I'll be fine.”
“Turn around.” Conor says and I eye him suspiciously.
“Why?”
“Just do it.” He changes position so that he’s sitting sideways on the couch and spreads his legs for me to fit between them. Reluctantly, I do as he says, my back is pressed into his front, his warmth seeping through his clothes and mine, warming my skin.
He moves my long hair to one side, his warm breath fanning across the bare skin of my neck causing shivers to race down my spine. My breath gets caught in my throat but the second his big hands are on my shoulders, I release it.
He kneads at my tense muscles with expert precision. “Mmm, that feels so good.” Conor continues his hand movements over my shoulders, down my back, up my neck. When he presses deeply into the back of my head I moan. This is the closest I’ve had to sex in a long time.
“You need to stop making those sounds, Sasha.” Conor growls into my ear, the sound altering my brain chemistry.
His growing erection emphasizing his words by pressing against my back, the grip he has in my hair tightening.
My face heats, not from embarrassment but lust. I don’t think a shoulder massage has ever made me so horny before.
I’m so lost in the sensation of his hands to even care what kind of sounds I’m making. His fingers apply a slow, rhythmic pressure and my muscles soften under his touch. I wonder what else those skilled fingers could do. “Fuck, Conor. That feels so good.”
“Sash.” Conor groans against my neck. His hands move up and down my arms, his fingers digging into my upper arms as my body leans closer into his. He runs his nose along the bare skin of my neck causing goosebumps to spread down my arms like wildfire.
When his lips skate along the sensitive flesh underneath my ears, I relax into his touch. “Conor.” I whimper, my panties instantly flooding with wetness.
“What do you need, baby?” Conor nibbles my earlobe and I feel like I’m about to combust, rubbing my thighs together to try and ease the ache that’s begun to form.
“I, I need-” The sound of a door slamming, and loud feet padding down the tiled hallway snaps me out of whatever this is and I spring to my feet. I’m surprised I didn't pull a muscle with how fast I just moved.
Liam comes into view, eyeing me suspiciously before his gaze lands on Conor. “Oh my God. Conor Matthews is here.” I groan while Conor chuckles. “Wait, were you two having sex?”
I blanch. Conor bursts out laughing. What the fuck? “Liam!”
“What? I’m almost fifteen, Sash. I’m not a kid.”
Jesus Christ. I bury my face in my hands. Someone. Anyone. Please put me out of my misery.